


receptum imperatoriae

by Marvelgeek42



Series: fabulas fundatoris [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, F/M, Gen, India, Islam, Loving Marriage, Minor Character Death, Non British Hogwarts Founders, POV Third Person, Present Tense, Rashtrakuta Empire, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000, trade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2020-01-24 13:32:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18572497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marvelgeek42/pseuds/Marvelgeek42
Summary: Shalvar’s back is turned to the attacker, but Rafeedah moves fast.





	receptum imperatoriae

**Author's Note:**

> Written by a white European. Feel free to correct me if you know better. Because I'm trying my best but I'm pretty sure it's not perfect.

Shalvar Char is well aware that as the son of an administrative officer, he has no actual reason to spend his days at the harbor, watching the Arabian trades and the products they bring from faraway lands. They tell tales of faraway lands with more differences than they care to name. He can tell by their appearance and style of dress that the people are different.

He knows that his father does not approve of his habits, but it’s not like Shalvar is intent on inheriting his father’s position. No, he will gladly leave this to whichever one of his brothers it is that proves himself capable enough.

Shalvar has different interests. His interests lie in the world, its people, and the connections between them; his passions lie in the creation of potions and integrating magic into whatever he could.

The latter is done far from the eyes of the traders who believe magic to be the work of an evil being they call Iblis — or the devil, if they are one of the people from the Eastern Roman Empire — unless the person performing it is devout to their god — apparently they only had one.

Once, he had very nearly been caught. In fact, he had been spotted in the act of talking to his familiar in the language of the snakes, but Shalvar knows how to phrase things in a way that the results end up beneficial for him. And such a conversation with Indra, a six-foot-long common krait becomes him muttering a prayer under his breath.

The fact that the man who had caught him did not speak any of the local languages most certainly did not harm in convincing him.

Perhaps the best example of this ability is the events that take place after he meets Rafeedah. The young woman is a year or two older than Shalvar is himself — at fifteen he is almost at the age of marriage for a male Brahim such as him — and she covers her hair, not unlike the way some of the women from the far north do. She calls the garment a hijab when he asks her, and she explains that the captain of the ship is her husband, who had refused to leave her behind for such a long journey so quickly after their union.

With her husband Salim’s permission, the two of them leave for a walk around the town while the man himself finishes — joined by her brother, Ali, of course. They discuss differences between their lands and cultures, from the lack of a bindi signifying her marriage to the fact that the Rashtrakuta Empire is apparently so much greener than the lands Rafeedah had been born in that she can barely believe it is real.

“It’s mostly sand unless you are right beside a river or the coast,” she explains in her native tongue, though the conversation as a whole switches between Arabic and the Tamil that Shalvar had been taught as a young boy.

It’s a pleasant walk, right up until the sun reaches its highest point. Shalvar is engrossed in Rafeedah’s description of the Bagdad House of Wisdom and is completely stunned when Ali pushes him aside and takes a curse at the very place Shalvar would have been. Ali falls to his knees, seemingly in pain.

Shalvar’s back is turned to the attacker, but Rafeedah moves fast. In the time it has taken Shalvar to turn around, she has pulled out a stick — he recognizes it as a wand based on the rare visiting magician he manages to have a conversation with — and pushes the attacker backward into a wall. It does not look like the man will get up again.

“What just happened? Why did he attack you?” Rafeedah asks as her brother gets back on his feet.

“I don’t know,” Shalvar replies, looking at the man who had attacked them. “Perhaps he opposes one of my father’s policies very strongly? It is the most logical reason I can currently think of.”

“That’s no reason to attack someone on an open street,” Ali argues. “Surely this can’t be allowed.”

“We have much bigger problems,” he states. Then he swallows. “This man was a Brahmin.”

He can see the siblings exchange a look of confusion and remembers that not every place in their world lives with the caste system like they do here.

“Killing a Brahmin is considered a heinous crime,” he explains.

Comprehension draws on their faces and it turns into horror right around the time the people arrive to punish Rafeedah.

Shalvar can not let that happen. He sends Ali back to the harbor to collect Salim and bring him to the court while Shalvar defends Rafeedah to the best of his ability.

The usual sentence for the killing of a Brahim is nothing short of death, but by the careful repetition of the fact that Rafeedah had been saving him — and perhaps a tiny bit of both magic and money accompanying his word to make them more compelling — he manages to convince the court to change the sentence to exile of not just Rafeedah herself, but her husband’s business and Shalvar himself as well. They are to leave within the day.

Salim, who looks at his wife with honest love in his eyes, stops Shalvar as soon as the proceedings are over.

“Thank you,” he says at least twelve times before he continues, “Thank you so much. My trade is not nearly as important as my wife. It pains me to hear that you will have to leave as well. If you want, you can join me on my ship on my way home, free of charge. There’s no way I can ever come close to repaying you for saving my wife’s life.”

“She saved mine as well,” Shalvar reminds him. “It is only right. That said, I will gladly accept your offer.” It is certainly the most convenient option available to him. “I’m incredibly curious to see this place you’ve described. That house of wisdom, in particular, sounds interesting,” he adds.

“I’d be glad to show you around in all the sections, including the hidden magical ones,” Rafeedah replies with a grin.

**Author's Note:**

> If you're interested in more talk of my writing, consider looking at my (currently semi-active but trying to change that) tumblr @marvelgeek42.


End file.
